Reading the Eyes
by Remorseful Passion
Summary: Draco has been left orphan, to tackle the world on his own. Hermione is facing some problems with Ron. Both are Heads. This should prove to be an interesting 7th year...DMHG
1. A Final Conversation with Lucius

Disclaimer: I own naught but the plot. All characters belong to J.K.Rowling.

I swear that I'm actually gonna keep updating this story. I won't start any others. Unless the stupid plot bunnies make me.

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Draco Malfoy stood over his mother's grave, a frozen expression etched onto his façade. 

To any passer-by, he may have seemed like a cold uncaring child, who couldn't care less of his mother's sudden death.

Inside, though, his heart was in pain, crying for all that had befallen him that summer.

His father had been one of the few caught Death Eaters, and now that a new Minister of Magic had been elected, no sweet talk, threats, or lies could get Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban.

Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had thrown herself off one of the manor's fifth story window. 

Draco could feel beneath all of this sorrow a pang of anger at his mother for deserting him like that.

He knew she'd never really cared about him, but she'd been his mother. He hadn't loved her, but he'd felt attached to her. 

And now, he was alone in the world, the Malfoy name now soiled.

He sighed, and looked up at the dark, grey sky. 

He felt a drop of water fall onto his head, and then another.

He looked down at his mother's grave once more, and dropped the bouquet of flowers he'd been holding.

He turned around, and started walking towards the Ministry car waiting for him.

He climbed into the car, closed the door, and closed his eyes.

As they drove away, Draco noticed with a remorseful air that he hadn't shed a tear during the interment.

*~*~*~*~*

"This way, Mister Malfoy".

Mr. Robert Raskin, director of Azkaban Prison ushered Draco towards the high security

 cells.

He was visiting his father. Tomorrow, Lucius Malfoy would be executed, and Draco wanted to speak to his father once more.

Lucius Malfoy had not been a good father, that was true, yet he loved his son.

However horrible the wizarding world may have thought him, Lucius Malfoy did not want to die with his son's hate disrupting his rest.

He had a lot to explain.

Draco stood at the front of the security room where he'd be meeting his father.

Mr. Raskin was chattering to Draco that there were guards all over the place, and that he was completely safe, that his father couldn't hurt him, &c.

"Mr. Raskin, I know perfectly well how to act around my own father," snapped an irritated Draco. " As horrible as he may seem to you, I assure you, he would not attack his own son."

Mr. Raskin apologized, stuttering incomprehensibly.

Draco sent him out. He could deal with his father solely.

He sat down, thinking. 

Tomorrow, his father would be executed, along with five other death eaters caught alongside.

Draco did not know what he was to do once his Father died. He had no relatives to care for him. None that cared enough, anyway.

There was always Tonks, he thought. 

_Mother's cousin, or some other whatnot_, he thought. A flame of anger alighted as he thought of his mother. She had very selfishly killed herself, leaving no one to care for her only son, knowing full well that he would have to do on his own.

He looked up as he heard the door open. His father walked in, tall and proud as ever.

Draco lifted his eyes and met his father's gaze.

Prison had not diminished Lucius Malfoy in the least. He was still the same regal, selfish man he had come in as. His platinum blonde hair was neatly pulled back with a leather strap, his black prison uniform clean, and his face as cold and unflinching as ever. He held his tied-up hands behind himself, not looking ashamed, but more as if he were to meet a friend for tea.

Nevertheless, this was no tea luncheon. This was the time for Lucius Malfoy to have a final talk with his son.

The jailer looked at the two Malfoys suspiciously. Lucius Malfoy sliced his ice-cold gaze over him, a single brow raised. Draco Malfoy simply stared at the jailer steadily, something resembling hate burning in his eyes.

Mr. Raskin came in once more, looking fearfully at Draco.

"What is this?" Lucius demanded. "Can a man not even have an undisclosed conversation with his own son, these days?"

"Do not forget, Lucius, that you are still in jail, and that the privileges that you may be used to-"

"My father is to be executed tomorrow. I would like to speak with him _privately_, if you have any knowledge of the meaning of the word, Raskin."

"I can not allow that, I-"

"Your job is surely not worth this much struggle, is it?" Draco snapped menacingly.

Mr. Raskin's hands twitched nervously. He shook his head, and told them that he could give them a maximum of ten minutes only.

Lucius waved him away, dismissing him.

*~*~*~*~*

"How was the funeral?" Lucius asked immediately after Mr. Raskin and the jailer left the confines of the room.

"What do you expect? It was a funeral," Draco responded.

"Did anyone come?"

"If you're asking whether Antonio Zabini came, then no. And Aunt Bellatrix didn't either. Probably planning something with the Dark Lord."

Lucius, for the first time, actually looked disappointed.

"Son, I have made a grave mistake, getting caught, this time. Bella always said I'd die in the hands of a Dementor and at the mercy of the Ministry. And she was right. Do not make the same mistake, Draco. Getting your soul stolen by those foul creatures is not anything relishing, I assure you."

_I wasn't planning to, Father. I wasn't planning on joining ranks with your Lord, anyway._

"I am guilty of all the charges, though, I didn't think them so bad. I was trying to rid the world of its filth. Mudbloods, Half-bloods," Lucius continued. "If that is wrong, as I said, Draco, I am guilty on all counts."

Draco couldn't believe his father. He thought it a bit pathetic. Draco believed that Mudbloods, &c. were filth, and he couldn't believe that his father actually _served_ a half-blood. It sickened Draco.

"I ask of you one thing," his father rushed after a short minute of silence.

Draco looked up.

"Do not come to the execution tomorrow. I ask of you nothing else. Only promise me, Draco, this one thing. I shall ask of you nothing else."

The anguish broke through his father's cool veneer, and the age showed in his features. For once, Draco could actually see his father's true colors, and he did not like it one bit. 

He saw an anguished, livid man, who had gone through much in his life, and had handed out torture to innocent people through all his past days.

 Now, after years of tormenting others, of insulting his peers, Draco saw how wrong he'd been. He suddenly felt ashamed and disgusted at his father's behavior, all of the rules that had been drilled into his head.

Nevertheless, he couldn't blame his father. It was the way they had been raised. 

Draco once heard his mother say that with every moving event, a revelation came forth, and that whether or not anyone chose to acknowledge it, it was a revelation nonetheless.

Remembering her words, Draco thought this to be the closest thing to a revelation he'd ever come to.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

They stayed a minute in silence. Nothing needed to be said. Draco had seen his father.

Today, he would leave, alone, with no one to come home to. He was alone.

He thought of the number of times he had thought that one phrase during the course of the day.

At that exact moment, Robert Raskin strode back in, looking a good bit more confident than he had ten minutes before.

"Ten minutes has passed. Say goodbye to your son, Mr. Malfoy. You will not be able to speak again, I presume."

The jailer grabbed Lucius's arm, and led him out the door.

"Farewell, dear son. May life treat you kindly."

With that, Lucius Malfoy was taken away to his cell.

Draco was left, standing alone, in the middle of a cold, dingy room. 

He suddenly felt as if he'd lived with a stranger his whole life. Farewell was not the way to speak to one's son. Draco looked sadly at the floor, and marched slowly towards the door.

"Good-bye, father," he whispered poignantly as he walked back outside, into the pouring rain. 

_English weather_, Draco thought, slightly amused. 

Nothing had changed.

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I thought this to be a good place to stop. Next chapter will be all Hermione. I hope you enjoyed this, and _please_ review. 

Songs listened to while writing this chapter: 

 _Bittersweet Symphony_ by the Verve.

_Calling All Angels _by Train

_100 Years_ by Five for Fighting

_Underneath Your Clothes_ by Shakira 


	2. To Whom It May Concern

_A/N First of all, you have no idea how hard it was to get this chapter out. Hermione has got to have one of the most boring summers to write about, ever. So I hope you enjoy. _

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**_I especially want to thank my beta, Kari, (her pen name's Cuppy). If she hadn't helped me, then this chapter would be incredibly boring and everyone would run away screaming. So mucho props to her. Especially to her extremely fast beta-ing. I gave her two weeks and she sent chapter 2 back not even one day after I sent it in. _**

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_So I hope you enjoy, and please drop a review after you read. ;)_

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The Moment I Saw You Cry 

**Chapter 2**

Hermione looked up from her book, frustrated at being disturbed. An owl was tapping the window with its beak, quite impatiently, it's brown eyes flashing angrily, its fawn feathers ruffled and flapping..

She stood up and unlatched the window, letting the bird fly in.  It zoomed around the room and she scowled at having to jump around madly and try to catch it.  

The owl dropped the letter into Hermione's hands and flew right back out.  Hermione watched the bird disappear into the distance before glancing back at the letter.  

She turned the envelope to see to whom it belonged to. On the front was written in neat, cursive and bold writing: 

To Ms. Nymphadora Tonks 

Hermione looked at the elegant script a moment more, and left the kitchen to go and find Tonks.

She walked into the living room, and, sure enough, Tonks was sitting on the couch, flipping through _Vogue_ with a disdainful expression etched onto her face.  Why Tonks read such rubbish when she obviously didn't like it, no one knew.  However, Tonks insisted she might need one of these designs for her next face transformation.

"Tonks?" Hermione asked, disturbing Tonks from her reading.

Tonks looked up and smiled at the brown haired girl, rather pleased with a distraction.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Um, an owl just came for you. Here's the letter".

She handed her the letter. Tonks looked at the elegant script with her eyebrows raised.  

"It's from the Malfoys. Most likely Lucius. I wonder what _he_ wants. We haven't spoken for years."

She opened the letter and read it through, her expression never changing.  Occasionally her eyes would flicker from confusion, to puzzlement, to sympathy but then they would always revert to complete blankness/

"Well," she said after having read the letter. "I was wrong. It isn't from Lucius."

"Who is it from, then?" Hermione asked curiously, ignorant of the fact that both Narcissa and Lucius

"It's from his son. Draco Malfoy."

"What did it say?" Hermione urged, wondering what Draco Malfoy would be asking Tonks, of all people. "The letter, I mean."

"Lucius Malfoy is dead," Tonks recited slowly. "Narcissa, too."

"Narcissa? You mean Malfoy's mother, don't you?"

"Of course."

Tonks sighed, and re-read the letter, aloud this time. "_Dear Ms. Nymphadora Tonks, I write to inform you of your cousin's, Narcissa Malfoy, untimely death. On August 1st of this year, Narcissa Malfoy was found at the bottom of the Manor's East wing Tower. I write also to inform you that Lucius Malfoy, your relation in marriage, was executed a week after his wife, your cousin…" _Tonks stopped. "Basically, he was informing me of Narcissa's death. Well…I wonder why I didn't read that in the Daily Prophet...maybe Lucius had something to do with it..."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked.

"Well…the boy has no one to stay with. I'll invite him to stay with us for the rest of the summer-"

"You can't do that!" Hermione interrupted, horrified at the thought that he, Draco Malfoy, would be staying for the rest of the holidays.  Those _normal_ holidays.

"Have a bit of sympathy, Hermione. I know you, Harry and the Weasleys dislike-"

"Dislike!" Hermione intervened. "Tonks, we hate the Malfoys! They're just a bunch of cold-hearted pricks who would kill someone for the idiotic reason of not having pure blood!"

"Hermione, this is my decision. I am sure Dumbledore would agree."

Hermione sighed, looking disgruntled.  She figured that it didn't matter what Harry, the Weasleys or herself, or anyone else at the Order had to say.  If Tonks wanted her nephew to come and stay, Draco Malfoy would be coming.  Unless he didn't want to.

"I'll write back, and ask. I'm not forcing him. He doesn't have to come. Remember that."

With that, Tonks left the room in search for quill and parchment.  Hermione could vaguely hear what Tonks was writing to Draco under her breath.  She wished Tonks had nothing to say.

Hermione grimaced.  Spending the holidays with _him_ would be rotten.  Awful.  Horrible.  

Why? Really, why can't he stay with his aunt Bellatrix? Oh, that's right, because she's too busy killing innocent Muggles!  Stupid git.  She'll die someday.

Hermione sighed, and went up the stairs to tell Harry and Ron what had just happened.

She wasn't sure whether she should be stampeding up the stairs or going slowly.  She was afraid of Harry's reaction.  But more afraid of Ron's.

***~*~*~*~*~***

Hermione looked crossly at Draco Malfoy, who was, at the moment, unpacking his luggage in the room Tonks had prepared for him.  The soft, pastel greens shimmered softly with silver.  Perfect for a Slytherin, Tonks had said happily.

She was leaning against the doorframe, still furious at Tonks for inviting Draco Malfoy to stay with her, and even more furious with Draco for accepting the offer.  She had thought that Draco would have refused, knowing that his most hated rivals were at the place of the Order.  But, obviously not.  And Mrs. Weasley refused to let him stay on his own at the Manor, no matter how much she hated him.

"Do you mind?" Draco turned and asked irritably, glaring at the brown haired, amber eyed girl that was staring around the room, lost in her own thoughts.  Her eyes flared at his tone.

"Mind what?" she responded, her eyes alive with fire.

"Do you mind giving me a bit of privacy? I mean, for someone whose parents just died, nobody seems very sympathetic. Except for the old coot Dumbledore and Nymphadora, of course."

"Dumbledore isn't a coot."

"Sure he isn't. Now get out."

"I'm supposed to show you around. Harry didn't want to, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had to go somewhere, Ginny and Ron were about to shoot themselves, and the others had more important things to do. So I'm stuck with you until dinner."

"I don't need to be shown around," he responded, turning back to his unpacking, hoping Granger hadn't seen his emotionless face flash with pain. 

"Fine, but I'm supposed to stay here with you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"I said fine already."

Hermione went inside the room and dropped into a near-by chair, watching him as he took out his black pants, re-folded them and put them in his silver drawers..

"I never said you could come in."

"I never asked. Like I said, I'm supposed to stay with you."

"I'm not five. I know how to act in someone else's house."

He stood up and walked towards her, glancing down and realizing how much he towered over her when she was sitting.

She looked him over. He'd grown taller, yet he was still the same Draco Malfoy who'd tortured her over the years.  His body had formed into it's...well...runt sized (she wasn't going to complement her enemy now was she) body.  His shoulders had filled out a little, and most thought he was good looking, but she didn't care for a torturer.

Her gaze landed onto his eyes. 

They were cold, just like every other aspect of his physique, never showing any sign of what he was really thinking or feeling. Hermione found it quite disturbing.   No one she knew, apart from Draco or Lucius had such blank eyes.  Even Voldemort's eyes crumpled with glee and malice when he had killed someone, or hurt them (or so Harry had told her). But Draco was so...devoid of showing his emotions.

No other 17-year-old she knew had that much self-restraint. She knew _she_ certainly didn't.  

"You can stay outside. There's only one door."

"Alright then," Hermione stood and walked out of the room.  

She sighed. The real reason Tonks had sent her to watch Draco was because she didn't want him finding out anything about the Order. He could report any of their plans back to the Dark Lord.  And no one wanted that to happen.  They doubted that he could go to a meeting, and not be found out, but no one fully trusted him, nor wanted to allow anything to slip.

Hermione rolled her eyes. If Tonks really were worried about the Order, she'd never have invited Draco to stay at Grimmauld Place.  But, she reasoned, Mrs. Weasley hadn't wanted the boy to stay at home on his own.  And if Mrs. Weasley wanted something, it happened.

Hermione muttered a couple of obscenities beneath her breath and lost herself in her thoughts.  

After an hour of thinking, her stomach growled angrily, signaling it was dinnertime.  She knocked on Draco's door, called out that it was dinnertime and stomped down the stairs.

Harry and Ron smiled at her as she walked in and she returned the gesture.  She rolled her eyes at Ginny, who was requesting Tonks' hair to go canary yellow with multicolour streaks through it, but had to be a curly bob and tuned into some of the adults talking about new missions in very hushed voices.

She glanced at the meal.  Roast chicken with every possible type of vegetable available.  Her mouth watered.

She pulled out a chair in between Harry and Ron, wondering where to begin.

"How is he?" Ron asked, leaning over to take some potatoes.

"Hmm... Kicked me out of the room around an hour ago.  Didn't say much," Hermione replied, grabbing a bread roll from the basket.

"Well, I don't like that he's here, but your mum was right, Ron, he shouldn't be at home on his own," Harry said, picking up his fork and taking a bite from his chicken.

"Surely they've killed enough people to have evil spirits walking around.  Wouldn't that do?" Ron mumbled under his breath.

Hermione scowled at the comment, Harry chewed his chicken angrily, but Ginny had heard that whole comment.  She looked at her lap, trying desperately to keep her giggles in check.

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**Thanks a lot to:**

**Eventuality, Kat, Dea Lofn, Crystal lacigam (sure, I'll add you! Thanks a lot for the **

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**{seriously, just check in my favorite authors in my profile}  Having one of my **

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**Ar-Zimraphel (no, I'm afraid I shall never be able to update two times a day, but. **

**You know, I try my best! Thanks a lot for reviewing. One more of my favorite **

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**yesterday, yet due to the overwhelming amount of work I had to do, had no chance **

**to drop a review. Thanks a lot for the great review!) Kari (hah, I'll thank you again **

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